What's your problem?
by Mird
Summary: Mird becomes a therapist to help the cast of Fullmetal Alchemist sort out their problems. Victim Seven: Armstrong. "Therapitizing people is a skill that has been passed down the Armstrong family for generations and generations!"
1. Ed

**Yeah, I'm aware that therapists aren't supposed to judge their patients/victims, or even make suggestions...But keep in mind, this idea came from a game I used to play with my friend, Mary, at recess in fourth grade...I would play the therapist, and she would play the patient...**

**Mird: So, patient, what's your problem?!**

**Mary: I'm trying to grow a garden...But I keep eating the flowers! What do I do?**

**Mird: Hmm...This is a tough one...I know! Put poison in the water that you use for your flowers! That way, if you eat them, you die!**

**Mary: Wow! Great idea! Thanks!**

**Needless to say, Mary always died. Poor Mary.**

What's your problem?

Chapter One

Edward Elric

Ed sat down on a comfortable brown chair. He stared at Mird, dumbfounded. "Since when are you a therapist?"

Mird grinned. "Since right now! I've got the glasses, the notepad, everything! I'm also incessantly annoying! What's more therapist-y than that?"

"Uh..."

"You don't need to answer that. Now, let's get started! Ed, what's your problem?"

Ed took a deep breath. "Well, doctor...I don't have a problem. It's the rest of the world that has a problem. You see...They're all too tall."

Mird said nothing.

Mird said more nothing.

Mird continued to say nothing until the nothingness that came from her mouth was nothingly-nothingish that it threatened to drive Ed even closer to insanity than he already was.

"GAH! SAY SOMETHING!" Ed exclaimed when he couldn't stand it anymore.

"Oh...Uh, right," Mird said. "Sorry, I kinda fell asleep."

Ed stared at her. "With...Your eyes open?"

"Hmm? Oh, no. There are eyes painted on my glasses. How else do you think therapists can stand to listen to their patients going on and on about their stupid problems?"

Ed made a mental note not to pay Mird.

"Uh, what was your problem again? Oh, right. Your shortness. Come with me." Mird took Ed by the arm and led him to a small room in the back of her office. (Ha! I have an office! Be jealous.)

She strapped his arms and legs to a table that looked vaguely torturous. "Um...What are you doing?" Ed asked uneasily.

"Making you taller!" Mird grinned as she started turning a lever.

Ed screamed so loudly that Hiromu Arakawa looked up from her drawing of a hawt picture of Ed, wondering what the noise was.

(This takes place in the USA, by the way...How did Ed get here? We don't know.)

Ed walked out of the room unsteadily, still slightly traumatized by his encounter with the infamous stretching machine.

He groaned loudly and imagined multiple painful ways of killing Mird. Until...

He caught sight of himself in the mirror.

Ed screamed so loudly that Hiromu Arakawa looked up from her drawing of a hawt picture of Ed, wondering where that sound of pure happiness was coming from. She shrugged. It didn't really matter, did it?

-End chapter one-


	2. Havoc

Chapter Two

Jean Havoc

"So," Mird began, looking down at her notepad where the name of her next patient was written in handwriting that was shittier than Ed's. "Mr. Jean Havoc. What's _your_ problem?"

Havoc sniffled pathetically. "I...I can't hold on to a girlfriend. Roy always steals them from me!"

"Hmm...I see," said Mird, pretending to take notes, although she was actually playing a game of tic-tac-toe with herself. And she was losing. "And how does that make you feel?"

"Like shit!" Havoc exclaimed, sobbing into his elbow.

"And how does that make you feel?"

Havoc looked up. "I j-just answered that," he sniffled. "Aren't you paying attention?"

"No. And how does that make you feel?"

"Like you aren't going to get paid, you stupid bitch."

"And how does that- Wait, what?!" Mird's head snapped up, her eyes wide with horror at the thought. "You'd better pay me, you little bastard! I think what _you_ need is some punching therapy to let out all that negative energy. Stand up."

Havoc stood up.

"Good boy." Mird patted his head and gave him a dog treat and a pillow. He ate the dog treat and held the pillow, waiting patiently for further instructions.

"Now," Mird began, wiping off her glasses with the corner of her shirt. "Punch that pillow until you have let out all of your anger."

Instead, Havoc threw Mird out the window.

He refused to pay for her hospital bill.

-End Chapter Two-


	3. Al

**Um…I might have been half-asleep when writing this. But it's just a guess.**

Chapter Three

Alphonse Elric

"So, my darling Alphonse, what's your problem?" Mird asked after fangirl-squealing and glomping him until he could barely breathe. (Yeah, he has his body back. Why? Because Mird likes ignoring her own rules.(1))

"Well, Dr. Mird," Al sniffled. "M-my brother...He won't let me have a kitty!"

Mird gasped. "What?! That's horrible! Let's go change his mind." She grinned evilly and made a call. Who'd she call? GHOSTBUSTERS!

Not really.

She called Marrissa. Marrissa has been a CIA agent ever since she was three. She's been banned from every country five times and she changes her name and identity constantly. And she is capable of killing someone with only her left thumb.

* * *

Ed mumbled something incoherent in his sleep.

Someone knocked loudly on the door and Ed woke up and accidentally jumped out of his pants. Then he put his pants back on, because he knew that if there were fangirls at the door and he wasn't wearing pants when he answered, they would take advantage of it, and, well...It wouldn't end very well.

Somehow, the fangirls had found his current room number at the hotel, and no matter how many times he changed rooms, they always found him.

"H'lo?" he muttered as he opened the door.

There stood Al and a girl with therapist-style clothing and glasses and a frown on her face.

"I'm Dr. Mird, Alphonse's therapist."

Ed groaned. "Not you..."

Mird glared at him. "Why do you sound so ungrateful?! I made you taller, didn't I?!"

Ed sighed. "Yeah, yeah. What do you want?"

Mird gestured at her patient. "Al wants a kitty."

"No."

Mird smiled. "I thought you'd say that. Marrissa!" she called. Marrissa walked in. Her latest plastic surgery had transformed her into a rather short woman with muscles larger than those of Armstrong, and breasts larger than those of Lust- which is, by the way, a very disturbing combination.

Marrissa smiled evilly and held up a pile of papers that had obviously been printed off the internet.

"What's that?" Ed asked uneasily. Al shifted feet uncertainly because he wasn't getting enough attention and Mird wanted the readers to understand that he actually WAS there.

Mird grinned. "A million copies of a RoyEd doujinshi! If you don't want these handed out to every citizen of Amestris, you'd better as hell give Al a kitty!"

Ed screamed. Like a girl. "EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEKKK!!! OKAY, OKAY! COME ON AL, LET'S GO PICK OUT A KITTY FOR YOU!" he grabbed Al by the hand and dragged him off.

"Hooray!" said Al, squealing like a little girl. "Bye, Mird!"

Mird grinned some more. "That was fun! Come on, Marrissa. Let's go blackmail Roy now."

(Who says shitty RoyEd doujinshi isn't good for anything?)

-End Chapter Three-

* * *

**(1) I made it a rule that Al isn't allowed to get his body back unless it's part of the plot. "Huh?" you say. "'Plot'?! Is there a plot?" No. There's no plot. Sorry.**


	4. Roy

Chapter Four

Roy Mustang

"So, Roy, what's your problem?" Mird said, smiling widely and showing off her supermodel teeth. Her hands were behind her back, hiding the potential blackmail device.

"Well, ya see doc, I- Hey what's behind your back?"

"Nothing, nothing," Mird said nonchalantly. "Continue."

"Well, ya see doc," Roy said again, because he wasn't creative enough to come up with a new beginning the second time. "I'm a gay pedo and I love Edward Elric, but he's with that bitch, Winry Rockbell. What do I do?"

Mird's mouth fell open and her retainer fell out. She made a mental note to find some Mary Sue called the Dentist Alchemist (seriously, their names can be really out-there) to fix her teeth with super-special-awesome alchemy whatsits so she wouldn't have to wear that damned thing anymore. "WHAT?!" she yelled. "WHO- WHA- WHERE- WHEN- WHY?!"

"Because..." Roy said quietly, shrinking into his chair nervously. "I just do...I love him. I can't help it-"

"But I was gonna blackmail you with RoyEd doujinshi! How am I supposed to do that if you LIKE RoyEd?!"

Roy's face perked up. "You have RoyEd doujinshi? Let me see!"

Roy chased the screaming girl around the room, stole to doujinshi, got a paper cut while reading it and bled to death.

-End Chapter Four-


	5. Envy

**FFnet is being bitchy. *sigh* Enjoy the chapter…**

Chapter Five

Envy

"So, Envy, what's your problem?" Mird asked, a smile plastered on her face.

"Well...Y'see...I don't know if I'm a boy or a girl. It causes some problems, ya know?"

"Hmm...Let's figure it out. What indicates femininity?"

"Boobs."

"Do you have boobs?" Mird queried.

"No," said Envy. "I don't. So I'm a boy?"

Mird shook her head. "Don't assume things. I have a theory. You know those annoying optical illusion/IQ test ads that pop up all the time?"

Envy nodded. "Yeah. I hate those."

"You know the one that has two dots that are the same size, and one dot is surrounded by little dots and the other is surrounded by big dots?"

"Mm hmm."

"It's all about _proportion_! What I'm saying is, you _might_ actually have boobs, but no one ever notices because you stand next to Lust all the time!"

"...You're dumb," said Envy. "I don't need a dumb therapist. You're useless." Envy stabbed Mird.

The readers gasped. _Is this the end of the genius that I worship endlessly and absolutely adore and love?_ they all wondered.

Nonsense, silly readers. I'm still typing, therefore I'm alive and well! I was brought back to life by the magical powers of fanfiction.

"...You're even more dumb. I don't need you. I can figure out my gender for myself," said Envy. (S)he took of his/her miniskirt.

"You wear a miniskirt, therefore, you're a girl," said Mird. "The end."

"It's not a miniskirt!" Envy snapped. "And look! I have a dick!"

"No you don't."

"I do! It's just...Small."

Mird snorted. "Like your boobs. Now pay me and leave, you little bastard. I need a donut badly and I can't enjoy it with your ugly face blocking my view."

And so Envy's gender remained a mystery. Sorta.

-End Chapter Five-


	6. Winry

**This is just a warm-up. I plan to post something non-crack later tonight. It's been a while since I updated, hasn't it?**

Chapter Six

Winry Rockbell

"So, Winry," Mird began reluctantly. Every single chapter (excluding the first) began with the word 'so', immediately followed by the patient's name. Routines pissed her off. "What's your problem?"

A sigh of woeful angst escaped Winry's lips. "My childhood sucked, but no one ever lets me angst in fanfiction! It's always Ed, or Al, or even ROY! Why don't _I_ ever get to angst? Does everyone really hate me that much?"

"Hmm..." Mird said, contemplating the idea. "I don't think so. Not many people hate you, except for Sue-fic authors who think that you're a slut and don't hold a candle to their OC in terms of Ed's sexual preference."

"Does that mean I can angst about being hated by-"

"No."

"Can I angst about not being able to angst about being hated by-"

"No."

Winry wrinkled her nose and crossed her arms stubbornly. "So I can't angst about _anything_? Not even the fact that my childhood SUCKED? Both my parents were killed in the war! My granny has a height issue and she DIES in most fanfiction! My only friends are a bean-sized state alchemist and a seven-fucking-foot suit of armor! I've had my virginity stolen countless times by LEMONS! LEMONS! CITRUS FRUITS! And yet, I'm not allowed to angst?!"

"And how does that make you feel?" Mird asked. She gave Winry a small, sympathetic smile.

"Depressed," Winry said. She proceeded to angst in the corner.

Mird blinked. She suddenly had a flashback.

_"Okay, Jimmy! Just you wait! I'll bring you back to life!" Mird's eyes were filled with childish excitement. She arranged all of the necessary chemicals in the middle of the transmutation circle. She knelt down, clapped her hands, and-_

Mird fingered her automail hand subconsciously. She gazed, glassy-eyed, out the window. She saw children playing cheerfully in front of the building, enjoying the childhood that she had never had and would never know again.

"Winry," she said darkly. "Get up. Move forward."

Winry looked up, still sniffling. "Huh?"

Mird's gaze was downcast and filled with negative emotion. She slowly lifted her hand and let the sleeve fall back with a slight flick of her wrist. "You see what _I_ had to go through? Please. Enjoy your life. At least you don't have the burden of automail, like I do-"

"Mird, that's aluminum foil that you wrapped around your wrist."

Mird froze, blinked and groaned. "DAMN IT! Why do you have to be so SMART?! I was going for the 'there're-starving-kids-in-Africa' approach! FEEL GUILTY! NOW!"

Winry was stunned. "You would lower yourself to the level of a Mary Sue just to make me feel better? Oh my god! That's so nice of you! But you really shouldn't embarrass yourself like that."

"I know. Now, back to the matter at hand! Why don't you angst in fanfiction?"

"Because the writers are all idiots," said Winry, a flicker of annoyance crossing her face.

"Well, maybe you _didn't_ have a crappy childhood after all," Mird said helpfully.

Winry tapped her chin. "Hmm...Maybe. How can I figure it out?"

"There's actually a very simple test. It's just one question. You ready?"

"READY!" Winry turned into Dora the Explorer for a second. (That's what would happen if 4kids discovered FMA)

"When you were eleven..." Mird began in her serious tone, which was, in and of itself, enough to strip all seriousness from a situation. "...Were you eagerly awaiting a letter?"

Winry wrinkled her brow and scratched her head like a monkey. "Durr...I don't know. No?"

Mird gasped. Her eyes widened. "Oh my god! You had the crappiest childhood EVER! You poor, poor thing! You need SERIOUS therapy to cure this trauma! Come back next week, and the week after that, too!" She shook her head. "You have reason to angst, ma'am. You may use this privilege as often as you like."

-End Chapter Six-

* * *

**If you didn't get the joke at the end, then I can only offer this advice:**

**That teen-fiction-sparkly-gay-vampire-Mary-Sue-romantic-shit-CHAPTER-BOOK that you're holding? Throw it out the window and get your hands on some REAL literature. Thank you.**


	7. Armstrong

Chapter Seven

Armstrong

"So, Major Armstrong, what's your-"

"Stop! Cease! Desist!" Armstrong said, his mustache bouncing up and down to give off the impression that there was actually a mouth underneath it.

"Excuse me," said Mird in a shut-the-fuck-up-or-I-kill-you voice. "But I'M the therapist here. _I_ call the shots. Now sit down or I'll turn your muscles in to flab."

His confidence wavered- he didn't like flabby muscles- but he didn't sit down. The little girl in front of him barely reached five feet! (1) Why should he be intimated by such an Ed-sized specimen?

"Stop! Cease! Desist!" he continued. "It has come to my attention that you are not the proper person to carry out this particular job!"

"You mean therapitizing people?" Mird queried, curling a piece of hair around her finger. "I'm doing great at my job."

"NONSENSE!" Armstrong exclaimed. His mustache began producing Cullen-esque amounts of sparkles. "THERAPITIZING PEOPLE IS A SKILL THAT HAS BEEN PASSED DOWN THE ARMSTRONG FAMILY FOR GENERATIONS! ONLY AN ARMSTRONG CAN SUCCESSFULLY-"

"Do I need to get another restraining order on you? 'Cause I was trying to give you a second chance, but now I'm not so sure."

Armstrong ignored her. Goddammit. He's such a jackass. I hate him.

"How 'bout this?" Mird said. "If you promise to shut the fuck up, let me therapitize you, then leave and never come back, I'll give you this scrapbook of all the coolest mustaches in the world." Mird held up previously mentioned mustache. She stared at Armstrong's mustache in awe, wondering how any mouth could possibly exist underneath it.

Armstrong twitched. Oh, how he wanted that book! It was unbearable!

But no. He must not stray from his noble mission.

"How about this? You give me your therapist job and I give you an all-expenses paid trip to Australia and a pet squirrel."

Mird caved instantly. "I'LL TAKE IT!" she shouted.

"Good!" Armstrong stole her clipboard (covered in doodles of squirrels and fanfic ideas) and shoved her out the door. "G'bye, bitch! WAHAHA!" He slammed the door in Mird's face. Mird stared for a moment, contemplating the blatant OOCness. Then she shook her head and smiled. _Kukuku, _she thought._ Dumbass Armstrong. You won't last a minute. Now all I need to do is wait...In Australia!_

And so, this chapter ends with a failure of a fucked-up YuGiOh Abridged quote.

-End Chapter Seven-

**(1) It's true. I'm such a shrimp.**


End file.
